Hera Potter and The Sorceress's Stone
by Primrose Angel Lupin
Summary: We have all read Fem!Harry, but have we read about her along with Fem!Ron, Male!Hermione. What if everyone's genders had been flopped? How would that change the story? That is exactly what happens in this AU about Hera, Ronnie, and Herman and their first year at Hogwarts under Alana Dumbledore and Mathew McGonagall. No romance yet but will eventually be cannon couples.
1. Character List

_This is a reference list for all the character's new names. I'm almost positive I have all the names I'm changing in this story, but if I add anyone I will update it. I will also explain in the story at some point why the Potters are still the Potters and not also the Evans._

 **Trio**

Harry Potter= Hera

Hermione Granger= Herman

Ronald (Ron) Weasley = Veronica (Ronnie)

 **Weasleys**

Arthur= Athena

Molly= Marcus

William (Bill) = Wilma

Charlie= Charlotte (Charlie)

Percival (Percy) = Persephone

Fred= Fran

George= Georgia

Ginny= Jimmy

 **Hogwarts**

Albus Dumbledore = Alana Dumbledore

Minervia McGonagall = Mathew McGonagall

Severus Snape = Severine Snape

Rubius Hagrid= Ruby Hagrid

Madam Poppy Pompfrey= Mister Pollex Pomfrey

Quirinus Quirrell = Quilla Quirrell

Filius Flitwick = Fiona Flitwick

Pomona Sprout = Pommeroy Sprout

Argus Filch= Aretta Filch

Godric Gryffindor= Guinevere Gryffindor

Helga Hufflepuff = Humbert Hufflepuff

Rowena Ravenclaw= Rasequin Ravenclaw

Salazar Slytherin= Salerna Slytherin

 **Gryffindors**

Seamus Finnegan = Sabrina

Dean Thomas = Deanne

Neville Longbottom = Natalie

Parvati Patil = Pavi

Lavender Brown = Larry

Oliver Wood= Olivia

Katie Smith= Kadon

Alicia Spinet = Alec

Angelina Johnson = Austin

 **Ravenclaws**

Luna Lovegood= Luke

Cho Chang= Chao

Padma Patil = Paden

 **Slytherins**

Draco Malfoy= Delphine

Vincent Crab= Vanessa

Gregory Goyle = Gem

Pansy Parkinson = Patrick

Blaise Zambini= Blair

Daphne Greengrass= Daniel

Millicent Bulstrode= Manny

 **Misc.**

James Potter= Jane Potter

Lily Evans= Liam Potter neé Evans

Petunia Dursley = Peter Evans

Vernon Dursley = Vera Evans neé Dursley

Dudley Dursley = Daisy Evans

Arabella Fig = Artimis

Tom Morvollo Riddle = Tera Madeline Modriny

Lord Voldemort= Lady Reindemort


	2. Mr and Mrs Evans

_We have all read Fem!Harry, but have we read about her along with Fem!Ron, Male!Hermione. What if everyone's genders had been flopped? How would that change the story? That is exactly what happens in this AU about Hera, Ronni, and Herman and their first year at Hogwarts under Alana Dumbledore and Mathew McGonagall. No romance yet but will eventually be cannon couples._

So this story was inspired by Stephanie Myers's Life and Death. I read it and thought it would be an awesome idea for a Harry Potter fanfiction and I searched and searched and couldn't find one. So, I decided to write my own. This is my first shot at writing fanfiction in years but constructive criticism is always welcome or if anyone wants to volunteer to be my beta it would be much appreciated. If ya'll have any questions just PM me or leave a review.

The Evans of Number 4 Privet Drive were extraordinarily ordinary. They had a house in the suburbs, a young daughter, and a white picket fence. Mr. Evans, who worked as a gossip columnist for a prominent Magazine, could be described as a lanky sort of man. He had yarn yellow hair and a giraffe's neck with an Adam's apple as big as his fist. Mrs. Evans had worked at a drill company before she took off to look after the baby and was working to get the baby weight off. Most People would describe her as plump or rounded, but she had always said curvy. The baby of the family, Daisy, was the apple of her parents' eyes and could do no wrong.

November first was like any other day for the Evans. Mr. and Mrs. Evans arose at precisely 6:30 A.M., Mr. Evans to get ready for work and Mrs. Evans to prepare breakfast. The young Ms. Evans, being over a year old, had taken to feeding herself and making quite a mess. The Evans, fussing over the mess, failed to notice the owls that had flown past their window.

At precisely half past eight, Mr. Evans put down his newspaper and kissed his wife goodbye. He thought for half a second about bestowing one to Daisy but thought better of it as he could not find a clean spot to kiss. " Little Angel," Mr. Evans cooed as he made his way out of the house. **He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.**

 **It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr.** Evans **didn't realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. Here was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr**. Evans **blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr.** Evans **drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr.** Evans **gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of** the article he had to write that day.

By the time Mr. Evans had reached the city, and was sitting in the usual traffic, he noticed crowds of people in cloaks. These people reminded him of his brother. You see the Evans had a secret the neighbors didn't know about that made them a little less ordinary. Mr. Evans' had a brother whom wore cloaks and waved around a sick. He had always claimed to do real magic but Mr. Evans, as sensible people did, wrote it off as slight of hand and other such tricks. He was a bit embarrassed at having a magician as a brother but every family had its black sheep so he didn't pay it much mind. One aspect of his brother's oddness did still make Mr. Evans laugh; he had changed his name to match his wife's. Mr. Evans gave a chuckle as he pulled into work as he thought of his brother, Liam Evans Potter.

However, he soon put him out of his mind as he went to work. He had more important things to do. Mr. Evans was finishing up a column on the royal family that day. It was very important. **He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr.** Evans **, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery. He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch was whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large**

 **doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.**

" **\- e Potters, that's right, that's what I heard —"**

"— **yes, their** daughter, Hera **—"**

Mr. Evans could hardly believe his ears. He had heard from his brother not too long after Daisy had been born that his brother had had a baby girl. These people couldn't be talking about his brother. He tried to recall what they had named her as he made his way back across the street. Helen or Mara must have been it. He was being silly. There are plenty of Potters in the world and lots of wanna be magicians as well.

 **He found it a lot harder to concentrate on** news **that afternoon** **and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried** **that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.** **"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost** **fell. It was a few seconds before Mr.** Evans **realized that the man** **was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost** **knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare,**

" **Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice,**

 **for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself**

 **should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"**

 **And the old man hugged Mr.** Evans **around the middle and walked off . Mr.** Evans **stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle,** a word he had not heard in may years **.** It was an insult his brother and a neighborhood girl had come up with to make fun of him when they were young. He had not thought this much of his brother in years. **He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things. As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.**

Mrs. Evans had a perfectly normal and ordinary day. She was telling her husband over dinner all about Daisy's new word ( Pretty) and what had been on the telly that day. Mr. Evans, in turn, talked about the magazine and his co-workers, but kept his mouth shut on the subject of the Potters. His wife thought even less of them than he and generally became upset whenever they were mentioned.

The Evans, after cleaning the kitchen and putting Daisy to bed, went to bed themselves as they were both too tired or drained to even watch the telly. **Mrs.** Evans **fell asleep quickly but Mr.** Evans **lay awake, turning it all over in his mind.** He had put so much thought into his eccentric little brother and what trouble he could be getting into with the people in the cloaks. **He couldn't see how he and** Vera **could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect them. . . .**

 **How very wrong he was.**

 _Bold Part are direct quotes From Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by JK Rowling_


	3. To Hera Potter: The Girl Who Lived

On the early morning of November 2nd 1981, in Little Whinging Surrey, all the residents of Privet drive were sleeping abet some more soundly than others. One visitor, however, was wide-awake and siting outside of Number 4 Privet Drive. This visitor, the cat Mr. Evans had spotted earlier, had not moved in some hours, if fact, this cat had not moved since 8 pm and it was well past 5 a.m. This abnormal behavior lasted until a woman appeared at the end of the street. It should also be noted the man did not arrive in a car, on foot, or by bus, no she appeared quite suddenly and out of nowhere.

This woman was quite unlike any of the residents of Privet Drive or really unlike anything they had ever encountered. She was short, slender, and quite elderly, if the wrinkles and silver hair were to be accounted for. (In her youth, she might have been described as pixie like, for she had both the temperament and the body type). Her silver hair almost reached the heels of her boots and had seemingly random braids throughout. Her garb consisted of periwinkle robes with white clouds that seemed to move in the breeze and a gigantic silver belt the exact color of her hair. Her eyes, which shown brightly behind a pair of half-moon spectacles, were the brightest blue like sunlight hitting the ocean and they sparkled and twinkled like water too. This very particular woman's name was Alana Persephone Winifred Briar Dumbledore.

Alana Dumbledore did not take notice, and if she had she wouldn't have put much care into it, that she had just arrived on a street she did not fit into and was not too welcome. She was too busy rummaging in her small bright green handbag to take note. She was up to her shoulder in the bag before she found what she was looking for. By the time she found her object, she had come to realize, however, the cat at the end of the street was staring at her. She gave a little giggle and a small wave and held up the object, called a Put-Outer. **It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. She flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. She clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times she clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching her If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Evans, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside her bag and set off down the street toward number four, where she sat down beside the cat. She didn't look at it, but after a moment she spoke to it. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."**

She glanced over with the intent to smile at the cat but the cat was gone. In the cat's place sat a stern looking man with square glasses that looked exactly like the marks of the cat that had just been there. He was wearing a dark emerald cloak and a matching pointed hat. His wavy black hair was cut short and did not dare misbehave by having a hair out of place.

"How can you always tell its me?" he asked looking slightly miffed.

"Honey, in all my years I have never seen a cat sit so still or so stiffly.

"You would be stiff too if you had been waiting in the cold all day."

"All day, my dear? Did you not want to attend the festivities? I was invited to no less than 10 separate parties. This is certainly a happy day in our history."

"Yes, yes, all _the celebrations_ ," McGonagall replied sarcastically. "How can they be so blatant and obvious to the Muggles? It is like they have completely lost their minds."

"The way these last few years have been, you can't really blame them," Dumbledore replied with kind eyes.

"Sure, sure," he replied frustrated. " But could they at least be less obvious? They have been parading around in robes for Morgana's sake! It sure would be something if on the same day You-Know-Who finally disappeared that we completely exposed ourselves to the Muggles. She has gone, hasn't she, Alana? "

" It would appear so," Dumbledore replied with a look that didn't quite convince McGonagall. "We should all be very grateful. Would you like a skittle?"

"A what?"

"A skittle. They are a Muggle sweet I have become quite fond of. They are like Botts Every Flavor Beans without any chance of getting a grass or vomit flavored one.

"No," he said coldly implying this was not the time for candy. "AS I was saying if You-Know-Who-"

"Honey, really can't call her by her name? This You –Know-Who nonsense has gone too far. I have been trying to get people to call her by her name for years. Her name is Reinedemort." McGonagall gave a shudder at this but Dumbledore ignored it. " All of this You-Know-Who business is confusing for an old lady. Besides, I have never seen a reason to fear a name."

" Well you wouldn't, would you? They say you are the only person she ever truly feared. They have always said you were her only equal."

"My dear Professor, you flatter me. Reinedemort had powers that I will never have," Dumbledore replied with a shake of her head.

"Only because you have always been too honorable to use them. If you had wanted to you could have most certainly been on par with her. But are the rumors that are flying true? About how she disappeared? About how she finally was stopped? " McGonagall said asked with a desperation in his voice. He pierced his college with one look. This is the point he has been playing to in the entire conversation.

"They keep saying that Reinedemort went to Gwendelyn's hollow last night. That she- she killed the Potters. They are saying that Jane and Liam are dead and that little Hera is alive. That went Reinedemort went to kill her – she couldn't. That she couldn't kill this baby girl. When Reinedemort went to kill her, her powers were shattered, somehow, and that is why she is gone," he continued trying to verify the rumors.

Dumbledore simply nodded.

"It's true?" He gasped. "After all she did, after all the people she murdered and tortured, she couldn't kill a little girl. But why?"

"We may never know."

McGonagall stood teary eyed and stared off into the distance. He lost himself in his thoughts on his former students and their child. Dumbledore sniffed and took out her pocket watch. **It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because she put it back in her pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was she who told you I'd be here, by the way?"**

"Yes, she did. But I don't suppose you could tell me why we are here? Here of all places."

" We are bringing Hera to her family. Her uncle and aunt live here; they are the only family she has left," Dumbledore said, as the twinkle was absent from her eyes.

"Do you really believe this is the best place for her? I have watched them all day. They seem superficial and they let their daughter get away with everything. I was the mother take her on a stroll earlier and she pitched a fit for a doll. And she was rewarded for it! Surely Hogwarts or a wizarding family would be better. These are certainly not the best Muggles. At least tell me you aren't planning on leaving her with only a letter?" The famous McGonagall temper reared its ugly head.

"Of course I am not only leaving a letter! I was going to wait till they woke then drop her off personally. I could never leave a child on a doorstep. You know perfectly well Hera can't grow up in the wizarding world. She would grow up with too much fame. She could never be a normal little girl. She would be worshipped as a princess. "

"Where is she anyway?" McGonagall conceited after a few minutes, eyeing Dumbledore's bag as if he was afraid she was going to pull the baby out of it.

"Hagrid is on the way with her. In fact, she is running late. I had-" Dumbledore was cut off with a rumbling from the sky.

 **A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the woman sitting astride it.** She was at least 7 feet tall and quite sturdily built. She has a mane of curly black hair that had enough volume and was wild enough, that it wouldn't be a surprise to see a small furry creature crawl out of it.

"Hagrid,' Dumbledore said with relief in her voice," We were beginning to wonder where you were. Ah, did the young Ms. Black lend you her motorbike? It does seem like the most intriguing of contraptions. "

" **No problems, were there?"** She continued after looking up from the bike.

" **No, ma'am — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was fl yin' over Bristol."**

 **Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over her forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.**

" **Is that where — ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.**

" **Yes," said Dumbledore. "She'll have that scar forever."**

Dumbledore took out her watch again and seemed satisfied with the time. " Alright, well it is time. If you would like to say goodbye, now would be good the muggles will be waking soon."

"Goodbye little 'Era. We will meet again," Hagrid whimpered as she bent down to kiss the baby's forehead. A few giant tears landed on the blanket the baby was wrapped in. Dumbledore then took the baby into her arms and gave a pat on Hagrid's back.

" I shall see you at Hogwarts good friends."

Hagrid went back to the bike and stared it up with a deep rumble. She soon disappeared into the clouds. McGonagall, who had decided to stick around a while longer, had vanished and in his place was the stiff cat from the day before. The cat then padded over to sit on the Evans' window box. Dumbledore, with the sweet sleeping child in her arms, strolled over to the Evans' front porch. She took out the Put-Outer and clicked it once. The lights on the street flared back to life. At exactly 6:30 a.m., Dumbledore rang the doorbell. None of the people currently at Number 4 Privet Drive knew what the future or even the present held, though some had better guesses than others. None of them knew, while Mr. Evans would contently do his duty and raise his niece, his wife would resent the attention he would give her or that the cousins, who would be as different as night and day, would grow up as sisters and all that entails. They did not know at that **very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Hera Potter — the girl who lived!"**


	4. Daisy's Unforgettable Party

Number 4 privet drive did not change much in the 10 years after a girl was left on the doorstep. The pictures on the walls favored a blonde cubby baby that grew into a young girl. Occasionally a skinny raven-haired girl joined the blonde girl in the later photos. If one considered the raven-headed girl shy, this would not seem out of place. However, the girl was not shy but Mrs. Evans quite favored her own daughter and loathed to let her daughter drag the girl into the family photos. Mr. Evans did not mind the occasional picture of his niece and put up 1 or 2 including his her to the dozens containing his girl. This he thought was fair.

Daisy Evans awoke on the morning of her 11th birthday ecstatic for the day ahead. She sprung from her bed with her blonde curls bouncing as she raced to her cousin's room, almost tripping on the bottom of her pajama pants. "Hera! It's my birthday! Get up! Get up!" she yelled pounding on the door. This day just had to be perfect. She got dressed in her new carnation colored dress and matching shoes that her mom had picked out before going down to breakfast. The smell of strawberry French toast overwhelmed her as she made it down the stairs. The first thing she saw as she rounded the corner was her mother and father sitting at the kitchen table reading various magazines and her cousin, Hera, making breakfast in her pajamas. The second was a mound of presents sitting in the living room. She did a quick count to make sure she had exactly 32 presents and found she was missing 2 gifts.

"Mom! Dad! There are two presents missing! Where are my presents?" she demanded strutting into the kitchen.

" Daisydoodle, we just got you that new dress for you and the charm bracelet you got from uncle Marcus came early," Daisy's mother explained. She glared at her for a good minute before her father broke.

"We will get you two more while we are out today." Daisy smiled brightly before taking a plate and sitting down between Hera and her father.

"Hera, you must wear the orange dress Mother bought you for the party today," Daisy said to her unfortunately skinny cousin. The poor girl was rather sticky with abnormal green eyes and unruly black hair. Daisy's mother insisted Hera keep her hair long and her bangs short to cover a hideous lightning shaped scar on her forehead. Worst of all, Hera had to wear glasses. The hideous things were not allowed at Daisy's tea parties or in any pictures. Hera gave a slight nod in agreement.

"Are you sure you want Hera to come to your party? We can always leave her with Mr. Figg," her mom asked.

"Of course she has to come, Mom. We need someone to try makeup on and she promised to paint pictures of the party for any of the girls who want them."

"Well, if you are sure. Girl, go get dressed and do something with that nasty hair of yours. We can not have you around the other girls at the tea party if you look like you usually do."

"Yes, Aunt Vera," the raven-haired girl replied taking her plate to the sink before going up the stairs. Daisy finished her second helping of breakfast before going upstairs to help Hera with her hair.

Hera sat in the back of the car next to her cousin drowning in neon orange puffs. She kept scratching at the bobby pins in her hair until Daisy caught her hand and told her to stop. She sighed and looked out the window and remembered the oddest dream she had the night before. The dream was of a flying motorbike and the same bright green light that usually plagued her nightmares. She knew better than to tell her family. Her uncle had a no nonsense attitude and did not like anything abnormal, her aunt would berate her for dreaming for something as un-lady like as a motorbike, and Daisy would just be frustrated the spotlight wasn't on her. She would have much rather had stayed home than gone to the party. She hated dresses and all of Daisy's friends that were more stuck up and spoiled as she was.

It wasn't that Hera hated her cousin. In fact, she was Hera's favorite family member. It was just they liked very different things and had very different friends. Daisy liked dolls, dresses, and playing house. Hera liked to draw, to go on adventures and, if she made absolutely sure no one was watching her, to play like she had magic. Her uncle had caught her once and had told her off something good. He said something about foolish people who believe in magic getting caught with their heads in the clouds. Uncle Peter and Aunt Vera had explained to her when she was very young that her parents were foolish unemployed magicians that were killed because they stuck their nose in other people's business. They expressly forbade her from playing at magic, but it made her feel close to her parents. There were even a few times when Hera almost believed she had done actual magic. Once, when a mean neighborhood boy tore up one of her drawings, she came home to find the drawing as good as new on her bed. Or when an older girl had picked on Daisy's outfit and made her cry, the girl's hair turned blue. Another time Aunt Vera tried to force a revolting yellow dress on her (one that Uncle Marcus had sent Daisy but Daisy had refused to wear.) As her aunt tried to force in on, it shrunk and shrunk till it would have fit one of Daisy's dolls. Aunt Vera said it shrunk in the dryer but Hera liked to pretend otherwise.

When they finally arrived at the gazebo, the Evans went to set up all the tea sets and decorations, including balloons and streamers all in pink. Hera went to find a nice spot in the garden to set up her easel and paints. She found a spot a nice distance away but close enough to see everyone. Art was the one thing she did right in the eyes of her family. Having good grades was alright, but true ladies had a fine art they did well, for Daisy, it was singing and for Hera, it was painting and drawing.

As the girls started to arrive, Hera began to sketch the girls in their dresses and look for any of the girls that tolerated her presence. Deanne Thomas was the only girl she saw that she vaguely got along with so she stayed in her seclusion. About half way though the party a pack of some of her tormentors, whom she had named the plastics, decided to pay her a visit. Daisy had invited them to again attempt to worm her way into their good graces.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't poor pathetic Potter," the leader, Regina, sneered as the group of 3 approached.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the wicked witch of the west and her flying monkeys, " Hera mocked the other girl with a smirk. Regina took a moment to process her comment before giving her a rather malicious smile.

" You are looking a little pale, dear. You could use some color," Regina said sharing a look with her goons before picking up Hera's paints and pouring them on Hera. She sat there for a minute with a stunned look on her face. Then, several things happened at once; Hera took off in the opposite direction; the plastics' hair knotted itself and turned bright blue, and all the balloons the Evans had set up popped.

Hera ran until the sound of the girls' screams died out. She plopped down in a most unladylike fashion and tried (and failed) hold back tears. She was just so mad! Why couldn't they leave her alone? It was so unfair. Was her Aunt right? Was she just a good-for-nothing ugly little freak? A waste of space? An insignificant spec in the universe?

" _Move_." Hera heard from the grass beside her. She gasped and jumped up looking around for the source of the voice.

" _Stupid Human_ ," the same voice spoke again. She found a little snake in the grass. The snake was gray with dark patches on it. It was fairly small as well.

" _Are you talking to me_?" She felt very silly trying to talk to a snake but she felt she had nothing to loose.

" _Ah, a speaker. It is an honor to meet you. My name is Aue. Why are you so far from your nest mates, hatchling? The loud creatures drove me from my house."_

" _I am, I am going crazy. If you really must know, they poured paint on me and made fun of me, so I ran away. I suppose I should be getting back,"_ Hera sighed and looked back at the snake. " _Would you like me to take you somewhere? My name is Hera, by the way."_

" _I would love a ride back to the great white structure, but, if you could take me farther, it would be much appreciated. I am always looking for a new adventure."_

" _I could possibly sneak you back to my house but you must stay very still."_

Once Aue agreed, Hera picked the snake up and carried her back to her art box. When she got back to the gazebo, she was harshly grabbed by her Aunt and hauled to the car.

"I don't know what you did but, if you ever think about ruining anything for Daisy again, I don't care what Peter says you will be sorry," Aunt Vera threatened with a sickening grin. "Oh and you are grounded for a month; no book, no art, no leaving your room, except for your now triple chores." The whole way home Daisy complained about how the plastics hated her, Uncle Peter kept giving Hera strange questioning looks, and Aunt Vera alternated between glaring at Hera and glaring at her husband. Hera, with an art box with a snake in it on her lap, spent the whole ride home imagining just to herself that she had done magic and she was special.


End file.
